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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27317881">Beyond the End</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostbitten_written/pseuds/frostbitten_written'>frostbitten_written</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Crimson Peak (2015), Crimson Peak (2015) RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Actor Tom Hiddleston, Alternate Universe - Crimson Peak (2015) Fusion, Blood, Character Death, Come Eating, Come Swallowing, Come as Lube, Crimson Peak (2015) Spoilers, Crying, Cunnilingus, Deja Vu, Drowning, F/M, Finger Sucking, Ghost Thomas Sharpe, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Haunted Houses, Haunting, Inspired by Crimson Peak (2015), Loss of Virginity, Love, Love at First Sight, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Married Couple, Married Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Night Terrors, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Penis In Vagina Sex, Post-Crimson Peak (2015), Sex, Stabbing, Talking To Dead People, Unrequited Love, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Virginity</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:48:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,540</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27317881</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostbitten_written/pseuds/frostbitten_written</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt:<br/>A celebrity haunted house for charity will be open one night only, Halloween night. You spent days trying to get a ticket online for the event. Thanks to a bad day on Halloween, you get there only a minute before the line closes. You’re the last person to go in and thinking that’s either really bad (everyone is tired or would be in a hurry to see you out) or really good (maybe you’d get some extra time with the one you came to see). You are never seen again. You select the set of the celebrity you’re there to see. When you get too close, you step into another dimension - their world -- and there’s no escape. What happened to you? Did the “celebrity” you came to see decide to keep you? </p><p>One-Shot Summary: Sylvia Sullivan and Thomas Sharpe are wed and reside in Allerdale Hall. How long will it take for Sylvia to uncover its secrets and will it be too late for her?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thomas Sharpe &amp; Original Character(s), Thomas Sharpe &amp; Original Female Character(s), Thomas Sharpe &amp; Reader, Thomas Sharpe/Original Character(s), Thomas Sharpe/Original Female Character(s), Thomas Sharpe/Reader, Thomas Sharpe/You, Tom Hiddleston &amp; Reader, Tom Hiddleston/Original Female Character(s), Tom Hiddleston/Reader, Tom Hiddleston/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Beyond the End</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowqueen79/gifts">Jtargaryen18 (snowqueen79)</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspiration: JTargaryen18′s Haunted House 2020</p><p>Crack Description: It's Halloween so I have an excuse to write spoopy themed porn. Enter Thomas Sharpe.</p><p>Word of Advice: Keep an open mind when reading this. Have no preconceived ideas. Follow the story.</p><p>Also as a clarification: Lucille is in this story and she does love Thomas, however, I do not and did not write incest. The bond these two share in my one-shot focuses on their dependence on one another and abandonment issues. They are just siblings, no more and no less. The love I talk about springs from kinship. I don’t wanna hear someone say I didn’t tag the nasty when there was no nasty. Their relationship is not the same as in Crimson Peak. Now, you may proceed.</p><p>My Smut Disclaimer: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24872329</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sylvia Sullivan walked up to the mansion and tried her best to stomp off the remaining snow stuck to her shoes. Of course, she was late. How ever did she manage to be late to her own rendezvous was beyond her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was already a crowd of people gathered in the front of the mansion. She had hoped dearly that she wasn’t too late, after all, her Thomas was expecting her. Tonight was the night, specifically, their night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome all, to Allerdale Hall. I will be your guide throughout this mansion of mystery and ghouls.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The guide prattled on about safety, referencing the house’s poor structural make-up, although, they weren’t wrong. The floorboards have given way on occasion, and it groaned with each step. It really was a dying house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This house was once known for its scarlet coloured clay, but today, for its dark past and darker history.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It couldn’t be that bad. Thomas Sharpe is in there, waiting for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A house as old as this one becomes, in time, a living thing. It may have timbre for bones and windows for eyes, and sitting here all alone it can go slowly mad. The house started holding onto things, keeping them alive when they should be dead. Some of them good, some of them bad. And some should never be spoken about again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd was silent as if they were waiting for something to go wrong, for the house to groan, for the fire to roar to life, prove its merit. Not a pin drop, could be heard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yet here we are, speaking about it, no?” The crowd mumbled, and Sylvia scoffed. She had more important things to do than stand around and listen to this nonsense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As promised, we will be revealing the Sharpe special at the very end of the tour. Are you all ready?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was her cue. Sylvia brushed off her dress and fixed her hair. She needed to look just right, not a hair out of place. She was ready, ready to meet the love of her life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvia gripped the fabric of her dress and followed the crowd into the mansion. Her heels clacked against the old wooden floors and echoed throughout the billowing house. She shivered; she could feel the cold draft as it wafted past her. None of the other patrons seemed to mind the temperature difference, but she could feel it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The house was rather bright for it being so late at night. The crowd dispersed to whichever end of the house, taking in each artefact and facet the house’s ground floor had to offer. Then, it went black. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvia felt her heart lurch to her throat as the wind picked up. The only sound perceivable was her trembling breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Atop the elegant staircase was a flicker of light. There he was, Thomas Sharpe, baronet. He stood still with a candlestick in his grasp. He said not a word as he descended from the stairs. With each step, the stairs groaned, but he paid no bother. His eyes fixated, on Sylvia. She felt her blush creep up her neck and her hair stand on end. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young baronet made two long strides and was before her in a heartbeat. The candlelight flickered over his lovely features in a ghastly manner. His cheekbones were high and defined, his jawline was sharp, his lips were thin and delicate, but the expression in his eyes… </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His eyes were everything.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes were like polished, glassy gemstones. They shone brightly in the dim light, the sea-green pulling her into the depth of the ocean. His teal gaze was like a powerful tidal wave that came to sweep her out to sea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My lady, Ms Sullivan…” He spoke quietly, the timbre of his voice penetrating to her very bones. Sylvia shivered and curtsied. He bowed slightly before placing the candlestick onto a table. “May we share a dance?” He reached out to her and offered his hand in union. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hesitantly took his hand in hers, and the candelabra lit up, brightening the room. It was time for their dance, of course. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two stepped closer to one another. Thomas’s hand splayed across her upper back, and the other grasped her hand gently. Sylvia was just shy of a few inches and looked up at her handsome suitor. The music that played was faint, but nothing was stronger than the hold they had on one another. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stepped in succession, missing not a single beat. They moved in synchronicity and graced the floor with their presence. Their dance lasted for only a short period, but their passion never dwindled. Sylvia found herself under his constant scrutiny. His eyes never left the sight of her; she was exquisite. Sylvia felt self-conscious and inadequate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry that I was so late,” she rushed out, only for his gentle smile and a slight shake of the head to hush her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>”Darling, all that matters is that you are here, now, with me.” He leaned down to meet her, lips ghosting over hers. Their foreheads touched, and his breath danced in line with hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you be my wife, hereafter?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas slinked down until he was kneeling before her. He held onto her hand and kissed her knuckles lightly. He singled out her ring finger, letting his lips linger just a little longer on that one. He smiled and looked up at her. His expression was that of innocence, youth, life and love, his promises even richer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thomas...” Sylvia’s voice sounded foreign to her. She didn’t realise just how much she was holding back until now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I will.” Thomas smiled and stood up to meet with her gaze once again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled, revealing his impressive smile. He leaned down and brushed his nose against hers before gently placing his lips on hers. He hesitantly nipped her lips before pressing down with more intensity. Each breath that she stole from him, he returned with great passion. Sylvia felt like she was in another dimension. It was surreal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Thomas pulled away, he looked deeply into her eyes. This time, his gaze made her feel butterflies in her stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached into his pocket and pulled out a beautiful golden ring, fastened with a large scarlet gem. Its outer shell was dull, but beneath it was an indescribable brilliance. The gold band was worn, yet its vintage style suited the ring. Thomas gently slid the ring onto her third finger and looked into her eyes bashfully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be with me, until the end?” He caressed her cheek and she blushed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beyond the end, Thomas.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two shared a moment of fondness, resting on the other’s forehead. Sylvia closed her eyes and took in his presence. Everything just felt right at that moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We shall meet again on our nuptial bed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas’s last statement was a ghost of a whisper and caressed her skin lightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Sylvia opened her eyes, he had vanished from sight, and the lights were back on. The crowd gathered at the foot of the staircase, where Thomas perched earlier. They prepared for their ascent to the first floor of the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvia followed the crowd quietly up the stairs and found herself lost. They had only made a few turns, yet she got separated from the group. The halls became a maze, something of a mystery thriller. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, she was embraced by a strong force that stole her breath away. She was in the arms of her husband, in the middle of his attempt at wooing her. He pressed her to his chest and left kisses on her neck. His voice thrummed against her skin, the vibration humming between the two. The uncertainty faded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sylvia, the new Mrs Sharpe, you look ravishing and might I add, my surname suits you quite well.” Mr Sharpe spun her around to face his new blushing bride. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was as beautiful as the first time they had met, the only difference was that she was finally his. He leaned down to pepper his wife with kisses, only for her to giggle and pull away reluctantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is no need for you to play shy, darling. We are wed.” Thomas’s insinuation made her blush. “Thomas! I just don’t want anyone to hear us,” she cut herself off, unsure of what was going to happen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, it’s just you and me; she won’t interrupt us. No one can.” Thomas resumed kissing his wife before sweeping her into his arms and off of her feet. He held her close and wantonly moved his lips against her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He placed her on their bed and crawled up onto her body. He captured her lips like a butterfly to a net. His attentions made her insides flutter and yearn for him. The weight of his body snugly nestled on hers made her feel euphoric. It was like no other high she had ever experienced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She moaned quietly against his lips and pulled him closer to her. She gasped when she felt his manhood stand out a little more than it did a few minutes ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thomas,” she exclaimed innocently, unaware of the fact that she could have such an effect on him. Thomas pulled away and looked into her eyes for any possible rejection. She was fragile, and he would wait a thousand lives before touching her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the matter, my wife?” He leaned down to place a kiss on her neck, never breaking eye contact. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t do this now, we might get caught,” she yelped when he rocked his hips against her thigh. She felt the hot burn of arousal shoot straight down to her core. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, we can,” he responded in a sultry purr that sounded foreign to her. His enthusiasm and lust were new but alluring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grappled with herself, her chastity, and her humility. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But,” she gasped. “No, my sweet.” He shushed her with his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right now, it is only you and I.” He grasped her firmly and looked into her eyes, like two souls in one hearth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let us steal this moment, untainted by darkness and that which flows from your lips and your thighs,” he murmured alluringly, “will bring me into the light.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If his lips were intoxicating, one could only assume so were his words, and it was true. He was truly potent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“May I have you, my dear wife?” His voice was quiet and how he handled her was tender. His hands ran up and down her sides, caressing her over the layer of cloth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvia longed to feel his fingers against her bare skin and blushed at the risque thought. To be naked in bed with another man, her husband, it was a new experience, one that she was willing to try with him and only him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tickle me, Thomas,” she remarked playfully before covering her face. </span>
  <em>
    <span>(See endnotes for reference).</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas chuckled and captured her lips. Upon not only request and her granted permission, he wedged her legs apart. Her dress was typical of the time and a job on its own to remove. Thomas relished in each tedious step, growing more excited by the second to see his wife in all of her natural beauty. He worked on his three-piece, abandoning his waistcoat a long time ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His missus remained only in a small, thin, lacey chemise, which he thought made her look marvellous. It truly embraced her feminine shape, accentuating her hips and breasts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sylvia,” he whispered her name as he trailed down her body and kissed every inch of exposed skin. He was a greedy man, and he planned on having his fill of his wife, now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvia was </span>
  <em>
    <span>precisely</span>
  </em>
  <span> the definition of a “blushing bride” at the moment. Her husband had taken refuge in the site between her legs. Her cheeks were hotter than the sun, both aroused and embarrassed. Thomas had lifted her undergarment and let it bunch at her midsection, exposing her completely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me take care of you,” Thomas whispered before descending upon her intimates. She was shocked, to say the least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Never in all of her years of living did she think a man would do such a thing, a thing of pure sin, yet it felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>so right</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She found herself gasping for air and instinctively pulling him deeper by his hair. His chuckles sent pleasurable vibrations throughout her groin, but his tongue did all of the devil’s work. It was truly a fall from grace, one that she would have experienced with no other man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shouted her husband’s name, a chant on her lips, and felt the build-up of tension in her core release. Her naughty, husband licked at her like a piece of candy. She was thrilled, and she hated to admit it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas emerged from between her legs looking dishevelled. His curly, black hair, was tugged out of place, and his face glistened with the aftermath of her climax. She was mortified, but he didn’t seem to mind one bit. Something about the lust-filled look in his eyes told her that he wasn’t finished with her, but part of her already knew that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hadn’t done the act of coupling. Her Thomas had not even gotten off as yet. She was scared but ready to become one with him. Thomas crawled over his wife and caged her in. They made eye contact and exchanged silent affirmations. She was eager, and so was he. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas reached down to her nethers and used his fingers to coax her into a more comfortable position. She was too stiff for him to breach just as yet, although certainly drenched in enough arousal to proceed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> He slowly worked his fingers over her genitalia and paid close attention to all of her reactions. She had her eyes closed and chewed on her bottom lip, while her nether lips fluttered graciously against his fingers. He slowly inserted a finger, and she gasped. Sylvia looked up at him before he nestled her neck, peppering kisses against her nervous pulse point. He continued to work her in and out at a slow rhythm. He crooked his finger upwards, and she flinched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thomas!” She exclaimed, and he stopped, finger still inside of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do that again, it felt,” she moaned in reaction, sounding like a hymn to his ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lightly brushed her little sensitive nub, properly pairing the sensations to earn a high pitched moan from his wife. He grinned against her neck before adding another. He continued this torturous pace, neutralising her pleasure and pain. He knew what he had to do, and they were both ready. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas gently pulled out his fingers and propped himself up. He quickly sucked off her slick from his fingers, her tiny moan not going unnoticed. He removed the final piece of clothing keeping him from being one with his wife, his trousers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment his manhood sprung free, Sylvia’s mouth ran dry. Her cheeks burned hotter than a furnace, and although she tried not to, she stared at it. His phallus was sizeable, unlike anything a young maiden could prepare for. It was thick, so much thicker than the two fingers he had just pleasured her with. It was so deeply coloured, such a contrast between his lower belly, the coarse thicket of hair and </span>
  <em>
    <span>it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was weird but scary and as far as she could tell, </span>
  <em>
    <span>it, all of it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, was supposed to go inside of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She panicked and shut her eyes tightly. The squeak that escaped did not go unnoticed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be gentle, I promise. Do you trust me, wife mine?” His lips caressed her face sweetly, as each kiss sent little shocks of euphoria through her skin. He kissed each eyelid before she cracked one open. His gaze was loving and sincere. His manhood rested hot and heavy against her thigh, yet he made no move to further his self-gratification. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvia let out a shaky breath and found refuge in his eyes yet again. That calm ocean washed over her and completely swept away any fragment of fear and doubt that plagued her mind. She was still a little scared, but she was ready. She reached up to caress her husband’s face and pulled him in for a sweet momentary kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m ready, Thomas,” she whispered against his lips. Thomas smiled and hummed against her lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached down between the heat of their bodies and grasped his member. Sylvia was so conflicted. She didn’t know if she was supposed to look or not but in the end chose the former. She watched him grip and jerk himself a few times before placing the tip against her entrance. She bit her lip and refrained from closing her eyes; she would synonymously experience this with Thomas. Sylvia was determined. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas pushed in, and she felt her nethers engulf his tip. She exclaimed and held onto him tightly. Thomas made eye contact and cooed at his wife. He tenderly caressed her and waited for her body to adjust to the sudden intrusion. With her guidance and his patience, he was finally completely buried inside of his wife, and it was magnificent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas thought that he was seeing stars for a quick second. Her channel was so soft, warm and tight. Her muscles squeezed down on his cock and suffocated him in the best way possible. He let go of a throaty moan that evidently pleased his wife, greatly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two spent another minute standing still in the bliss of their bodies. Thomas captured his wife’s lips again before beginning to move his hips. She whimpered quietly, and he stopped to flick that little bud he knew drove her crazy. The response was immediate, and it was hot. She clenched down onto his length in a vice-like grip and panted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas continued to do exactly that, and the two were finally enjoying the pleasures the flesh have to offer. He leaned down to appreciate her breasts, kissing and lightly sucking the soft skin. There were so many sensations working to send them to the edge, it was almost overwhelming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas’s tongue, which he had already established was of the devil’s work, his thrusts, although languid was enough to find that spot deep within her that she never knew existed, and his fingers… All of the sensations were surreal. She would never question his profession of innovation ever again. He clearly knew what he was doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two were panting and grasping for the other’s embrace in no time at all. Thomas hit his high before his wife did, but did not stop until she was just as satiated as he was. They spent the night entangled in each other’s nakedness and his favourite bedsheets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvia had awoken to find Thomas gone. His side of the bed was actually, cold. She sat up and stretched, wincing at the persistent dull ache between her legs. It was a salacious reminder of what happened in the previous night, and she felt embarrassed, almost ashamed, to like it. The night that they had shared was exquisite in every way imaginable. She couldn’t have asked for a better husband, although she was a bit concerned about his current whereabouts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was when she heard another female’s voice call out for him. Her voice was sweet, yet sultry and it held great depth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thomas! I’m home!” Sylvia swung her legs out of bed and got up to investigate. She quickly pulled on something modest, a long white gown, with sleeves. It was a bit chilly in the house, and she could have sworn that she felt a draft. Sylvia cautiously pushed the door open and crept into the hallway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was light on her feet and carried herself with the confidence of a cat. Of course, she didn't calculate the large hands that sprung from the darkness and clamped over her mouth. She protested, her voice muffled under the massive hand, only to be shushed by Thomas. He was dressed in his usual attire and looked as though he had just returned from an outing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must hide, quickly!” His words were urgent and left no room for protest. Thomas stumbled as he guided her to the lift and delivered frantic instructions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hide in the basement and wait for me, my love. Is that understood?” Sylvia couldn’t even get out a word by the time the lift arrived. He planted a quick kiss to her lip before shoving her into the small compartment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, Thomas,” he shushed her and answered, “Lucille is here! You must hide! Please!” He quickly pushed a button and sent her on her way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The old contraption sent her through the levels of the house and deposited her into its bowels. She stepped out tentatively and was shocked to see numerous and almost endless vats of clay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stepped toward the first one she saw and stared at the smooth, bubbling liquid before her. She picked up a metal stick and followed the calling of her inner self, to stir it. The movement of the liquid was encapsulating, its fluidity mesmerising. The way the liquid travelled with the intrusion of the stick made her forget about everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sudden noise startled her, causing her to lose the rod in the depths of the liquid. She huffed annoyed and leaned over slightly, searching for it fruitlessly. Although it was tem</span>
  <span>pting, she dare not touch the aqueous substance, yet the house thought otherwise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvia was suddenly plunged into the vat by an unseen force. She was forced into the vat and held in place, by whom she knew not. All that could be heard was a dull splash and muffled pleas for life. All that could be seen was red and then black. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvia woke up suddenly, her entire body covered in sweat. She took in a deep breathe and checked her side to find Thomas asleep. He was beside her, she was still as naked as the day she was born, and all was well. She decided to get up, deciding against sleeping again. On the off chance that that night terror kicked back into gear, she decided it would be best to stay awake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reached for her favourite gown and was taken back by its appearance. The crisp linen was marred, by unsightly, bright red stains. It wasn’t blood, but she also couldn’t figure out what it was. Instead, she chose to wear a dress in Thomas’s favourite colour, a navy blue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvia left Thomas in the room, his quiet snores getting quieter the further she walked. She stopped to take in the ambience of the house. It was eerily quiet, and it was still dark. The staircase almost looked like sharp teeth to her. It spiralled down to the ground floor, resembling the pit of an abyss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of a sudden, she saw movement in the corner of her eye. She quickly directed her attention to the ground floor. She looked down from the railing and scanned the floor cautiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” She called out to the unknown feeling equal parts scared and stupid. Her voice croaked in time with the house. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her. There was no response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nothing and no one is home but Thomas and me. It’s just me and Thomas,” she reminded herself in a shaky whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s asleep and I’m awake. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a loud groan that came from the heart of the house that made her jump. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wrong, little girl. This house is very much awake and you have everything to be afraid of!” Sylvia shriek and turned around only to be pinned against the railing by a young woman with dark hair and piercing eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Sylvia didn’t know any better, she’d say that she resembled Thomas a little. She held a sharp knife to her neck and spoke too closely for comfort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you? Why are you in our home?” Sylvia asked with a trembling voice. Her question seemed to anger the woman more and triggered something sinister inside of her perpetrator. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Our</span>
  </em>
  <span>, home? You really think this place belongs to you, that this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> home?” Sylvia was silent, unsure of whether or not to speak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is no such thing as a </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span>. We are born, we live and then we die.” She whispered her words with a level of insanity that sent chills down her spine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember this. Nothing in life is certain, except death, except the end.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With her final remark, she pushed Sylvia down the stairs and sent her tumbling down to the ground floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvia’s vision tunnelled before she blacked out. It was all a dream, she tried to convince herself, yet she woke up on the floor at the foot of the steps. She paid no mind to the throbbing pain in her head or the small pool of blood on the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had an urgent mission; she needed to warn Thomas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She held onto the railing as she pulled herself to her feet. She wobbled as she steadied herself on both feet. Her vision was blurry, and her head swung, like a drunkard's. She felt light, like a feather. “Thomas!” She screamed his name from the top of her lungs. She ran up the stairs to their bedroom, urging down her nausea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no time for her to be discreet; it was a matter of life and death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swung open the doors to their bedroom and shrieked at the sight before her. Their bed was empty but, his side was covered in blood. On her side, the red blotted linen gown was neatly laid out, and in the middle, at the foot of the bed, sat the same terrible woman from her nightmares. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You, again!” Sylvia eyed the bloody knife in her hands and stayed a safe distance away from the psychopath in their bedroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is Thomas?” Sylvia’s eyes welled up with tears which only worked to edge on her sinister smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What have you done to him?” Sylvia tried her best not to sob, failing miserably. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was wondering the same thing when I met you.” She chuckled, it was the same sultry voice from before… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucille…?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hummed approvingly as she played with the bloody knife in her hands, twirling the sharp tip into her pointer finger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you know my name… but do you know who I am?” Sylvia’s bottom lip trembled; she bit it to keep from showing her fear. Her voice gave her away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?” She laughed, centre stage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am the woman you stole from.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Sylvia was confused. She had never met Lucille in her life and didn’t even know her name until a few minutes ago. Sylvia didn’t understand. “Pathetic,” Lucille spat as she stood up. Sylvia stumbled as she backed away. Her clumsiness amused Lucille. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am Thomas’s first and only love.” Her voice was low and steady, but her tone was fierce. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That's not true. I am his wife. He has given me his heart, and I, him.” Sylvia responded shakily, yet with conviction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you really think Thomas cares for you?” Lucille shrieked and pointed the knife at Sylvia with a trembling hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought the same, but look at how it turned out! He’ll leave you! He won’t stick around! He’ll use you and when all is said and done he’ll leave you to fend for yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Every sentence made her feel sick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! That’s not true! Thomas would never do that!” Lucille lowered her knife as tears sprung to her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He would never do that? You really think so? Then why did he do that to me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvia didn’t entertain her game for another second. She had to find Thomas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is he, Lucille?” She chuckled darkly as she rolled her neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By the time you get to my brother, he’ll be as good as dead. It’s what he deserves.” She cried, and Sylvia shivered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt the familiar chill rush past her body and saw the front door, opened. Sylvia left Lucille in a rush to find her husband. She marched over to the grand doors and peeked outside. It was still cold and still dark, but in the distance, she could see Thomas, her husband. He was standing outside in the cold, back facing her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thomas!” She called out to him as she ran toward him. They needed to leave and get to safety. Their lives depended on it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thomas, why are you out here? Why haven’t you put on more layers, you must be freezing. Lucille has gone mad we must leave, now.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thomas hadn’t said a word, and neither did he attempt to look at her. Sylvia reached out to him and tugged on his arm. She could feel the chill of his skin beneath the thin tunic he wore. He didn’t budge; he turned to face her on his own accord. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gasped and recoiled when she saw his face. He was still as handsome as the night she first met him, but there was a wound on the left side of his face. His eyes had turned blood-red, shedding tears of the same nature, but his irises had gone orange. Her ocean had turned into a desert. His skin was like broken porcelain, with cracks sprouting from the heart of his wound. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thomas…” She hesitantly reached out to touch him, and he captured her wrist in his hand. He wordlessly led her back to the manor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Thomas, what are you doing? She’s going to kill us!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it wasn’t the mansion he was showing her. It was the statue erected at the front of their house. He stood still, his eyes dull, and his demeanour washed away. Sylvia stepped forward and looked at the statue. It was huge and as black as night. It sparkled with an uncanny resemblance to obsidian. It was Lucille and Thomas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome to the Sharpe Manor,” the plaque read. Sylvia’s mind began to spin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In memory of…” and the list went on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scanned over the names of every maiden. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It can’t be; it's not true.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She jerked away and turned to Thomas. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It can’t be! Thomas, what is this?” He silently directed his gaze towards the mansion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There Lucille stood with many others. “This is insane! I must leave at once!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And like her pleas were finally being heard, she finally found what could be her salvation. There they were, the people from earlier. She made a mad dash for the group. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Help me, please! Someone!” They didn’t even notice her presence. It was like she didn’t exist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Their last known victim is said to be Sylvia Sharpe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Victim? She wasn’t a victim. A victim of what?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Her maiden name is unknown. She too was caught in the trap of the Sharpes. She willing wed the handsome young brother and fell like the rest of them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked back at the mansion and saw everyone from the plaque. She could feel the chill they emanated. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What was the truth, and could she accept it?</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Their happily ever after wasn’t quite as happy as it was ever after. No one really knows the exact story about what went down in this house and neither are we sure of the body count. It is said that Lucille guards the house and keeps its secrets locked away, forever, just like she did when she was alive.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sylvia’s eyes settled with tears. It was true, all of it; she was trapped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She felt Thomas’s hand on her shoulder. He pulled her closer to him and held her shaking body tenderly in his arms. He rested his head on hers, but there was no heartbeat, there was no warmth, there was nothing. It had all washed away in the wind. She felt cold, so cold that she felt her shiver penetrate straight to her core. Her bones shook, her teeth practically chattered, and that was when she knew she was at the end of the line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She fell to her knees and sobbed. Thomas didn’t attempt to comfort her, he was stuck here too. They all were, and she was no exception. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Time to go home, Sylvia.” Against her will, she was whisked away, back to the dark manor on top of the red hill, <em>crimson peak.</em> </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There they all were, residing in the darkness, beyond the end. The house was very much alive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” Sylvia shouted bloody murder from the top of her lungs. The shrill sound echoed off the walls like a ghost in the night. No one heard her, no one saw her, and no one would believe her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been 100 years since this tragedy, but even now, ghosts are real. There are things that tie them to a place, very much like they do to us. Some remain tied to a bunch of land, a time and date, a spilling of blood, a terrible crime... There are others, others that hold on to an emotion, a grief, a lost, revenge, or love. Those, they never go away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>They never go away; they live beyond the end. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Tickle Thomas is a 19th-century British slang word for vagina. So, get it? The pun? Hehe.</p><p>I struggled to get this piece done and I’m a little unsatisfied with it. I tried my best and I hope it makes sense and doesn’t come off as an outlandish fever dream... Maybe it'll grow on me at some point. </p><p>Also, unrelated author's note: It's Halloween, my absolute favourite holiday and I didn't get to do anything. (Obviously, stayed in because of COVID-19) I didn't get to celebrate, trick-or-treat, dress up in a costume, or have remotely any spoopy fun. All of my friends wore costumes. I'm not going to lie, I'm a little sad.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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